


Thirst and The Water Quest

by darklittlestories



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Brother Feels, Crying During Sex, Explicit in later chapters, For a Story of this Size Anyway, Loki Cheats on Quests, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Magic, Of a Naughty Nature, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pseudo-Incest, Quests, Sibling Incest, Size Difference, Size Kink, Slow Burn, Stucky Thorki Secret Santa 2016, Tears, Thor is So Damn Proud, You will NEVER convince my that AoA Loki is not a serious size queen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:25:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8975959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darklittlestories/pseuds/darklittlestories
Summary: Loki is the Agent of Asgard, Awesomeness, and Asskicking. His motivations are Absolutely, Totally Pure AF™. Definitely he lives to serve the goodness. But if the affection in Thor's ridiculously beautiful eyes gives him slightly inappropriate feels, that's mere coincidence. And so the sexiest super spy embarks on a quest for the All-Mother and lives for the reward.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vitanitas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vitanitas/gifts), [ikoliholic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikoliholic/gifts), [pinknoonicorn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinknoonicorn/gifts).



> * Happy, happy Holidays to Vitanitas! I really hope you enjoy the ride:D *
> 
> \----------
> 
> Oh sweet Mother of GODS this was fun to write. I am in madcrazyfullonADORING love with AoA Loki, though I’ve sadly only read the first volume. The tone is so, so enjoyable to read and trying to emulate it has been an absolute treat.
> 
> Super magical thanks to ikoliholic & pinknoonicorn. They beta'd and helped me sort through the many iterations of Lo in the comics and are darling. Thanks to Magic & Sonia for organizing the whole Stucky Thorki Secret Santa thing and being just lovely people in general.

_Manhattan. Upper West Side.  
_ _A mid-priced, six-floor apartment building, which had some months ago suddenly gotten an open plan seventh floor with an unlikely mix of expensive decor and vintage relics of questionable origin:_

Lolling on his belly on the sofa, feet in the air and swaying to music from the apartment three floors below (magically amplified to issue from the pressed-tin ceiling tiles), Loki scrolled through Tumblr. He was delighted to see heavily trending gifs of himself. He thumbed happily along, seeing them reblogged time and again. The short, repetitive loops were cut from a video of him dancing into a nightclub past a crowded line of would-be entrants and a bouncer built like Volstagg after a bountiful meal.

He grinned happily at his own face winking and twitching a little smirk at the camera while no one else in the images seemed to notice him. It’d been a flawless execution of a new, very specific glamour.  
  
Only those in the queue and the bouncer were affected, while those, like the camera-wielding pigtailed girl with a glittery black phone case—he’d caught up with her and her boyfriend after darting out the club’s back door—outside the spell’s influence were able to see (and in this case, to gawk and to film and then rather gloriously fuck) him.

He admired the case, now wrapped snugly around his StarkPhone, which threw off holographic light shards when it caught the lamplight. He scrolled on, stopping on a slash story prompted by the gifs. In the story, Loki’d been found out by the bouncer, who was replaced by his brother Thor, and was punished in a crude BDSM scene.

It wasn't the best writing, but it was unnervingly similar to Loki’s fantasies lately. His face went bit hot and he tried to ignore the rapid swelling in his pants.

He scrolled past to a long thread speculating on what brand of eyeliner he was wearing in the video. He reached into his underwear to adjust his half-erect cock and the gif winked at him once more.

And then the image was suddenly the All-mother.

The trio of faces gave him simultaneous looks of Severe Momlike Judgment. Idunn’s eyebrow shot up at a sharp angle, Gaea scowled, and Freyja shook her head. Then they began to speak. It gave Loki a jarring sense to hear their voices come from the ceiling tiles rather than the phone speakers.

First, a long-suffering sigh from Gaea.  
  
Then Idunn cleared her throat.

Freyja rolled her grey eyes. “We have need of you, Loki.”

“Well, obviously, _Mom._ Zzz. _Moms_. I had assumed you didn’t appear on my Tumblr dash to be all judgy and try to kill me with the Triple Threat Grumpy Cat Evil Eye. However may your humble servant be of aid?”

Idunn snorted. “Humility, Loki? Really? I rather think—”

“No matter,” Freyja interrupted. “We have need for very specific ingredients for a spell. We must have a flask of water from the sacred spring of Hvergelmir. This is quite impossible to access, of course, but from the spring issue the Thirty Seven Sacred Rivers of the Realms. You will need to visit each of the rivers, collecting a sample from each of them and together they will compose the waters needed for the spell.”

“So… whatcha doin’? Can I help?” he asked, face all innocence and sugar plums. Certainly not the face of a guy who’d just been horny because of incestuous slash. Starring himself. Pseudo-incestious. Hey, new body. Ish. Okay? Relatively. Heh. Pun only a little intended, thank you very much. Anyway, barely incestous at all in a certain light.

“The mission is not to perform the spell. It is to gather the waters for Us. That is all you need know,” Idunn answered.

“Bring them to Us when your task is complete,” Freyja continued. “You will need some time. The rivers are thus: Round Asgardia wind Sid, Vid, Soekin, Eikin, Svöl, Gunntro, Fiörm, Fimbulthul, Rin—”

“Rennandi, Gipul, Göpul, Gömul, Geirvimul. I know. Google?” He showed them the tablet on his coffee table, which he’d just enspelled to pull up the names of the Waters of the World. The fact that he remembered the names from centuries of tutelage as his former self was strictly need-to-know.

He rattled off the rest of the names in a sing-song voice: “Then in Vanaheim, Thyn-Vin-Thöll-Höll-Grad-and-Gunnthorin. In beautiful, provincial Alfheim, we have Vina-Vegsvin-Thiodnuma-Nyt-Nöt-Nön” he paused for a dramatic gulp of air, “Hrön, Slid, Hrid, Sylg, Ylg…”

“Yes, Loki,” the Triumvirate said in exasperated unison. “Your little machine knows the Waters we seek. Well done.”

“Lemme finish; I’m on a serious roll.” Loki inhaled deeply and in a whoosh of breath said “Finishing Alfheim we have Vid-Van-Vönd-and-Strönd. Then in Midgard the fabulous Giöll and Leipt!” He snapped shut the case of the tablet. “All-Mums, there are thirty-seven rivers! That is a _lot_ of travel time. Like a whole bunch of time. Months?”

Except not, because a wonderful plan was taking shape in Loki’s quicksilver mind.

“As we have said, it will take some time. You may take a Midgardian season.”

He sighed as if resigned to his obligation. “You got it, Mamas. I am all over this. Agent Loki reporting for Operation ‘All the H2O’.”

Three synchronized rolls of six hi-rez eyeballs, and then Loki’s face was again winking at himself through the gif.

He logged on as l0l0l0ki and added to the thread, “It’s Eye of Horus, Emerald Tabula Goddess Pencil with Smokey just at the lashline,” then vanished the account, put the StarkPhone on sleep mode, and went to pack.

* * *

The thing about the quests was this: The after part.  
The dessert, he thought.

He and Thor had (miraculously, to Loki’s mind) fallen into a loose routine of talking about the completed missions over beers or mead. Every time, it gave Loki a warm glow seeing satisfaction, amusement, and of course just a hint of disapproval about certain methods Loki would inevitably employ. But his brother was proud, and after his last few missions he’d seen that pride kindle into growing affection on Thor’s part. Loki was discomfited by the feeling even as it made him tingle everywhere between his jet hair and his lacquered toenails.

The whole redemption arc thing was one thing, and the fact that the All-Mother could snap three sets of righteous fingers and return him to his former wretched state or some new punishment was another. But the real reward in being Asgardia’s twistiest good boy and super-spy was celebrating afterward with his big brother.  

He had to tread very lightly here. Because Loki knew (in frustratingly inconstant levels of detail) that before Thor’s exile they’d been lovers, but Thor didn’t/shouldn’t/ _couldn’t_ know that Loki knew. He was himself only ever about half-sure the memories were real. ‘Too good to be true’ was a category of lie Loki knew to be particularly poisonous.

But he did remember. And he _wanted_ …


	2. Chapter 2

_Some time later.  
_ _Some **where** later._

Loki sprawled on the heavy branch, panting and sweating. It never stayed with him, how difficult it was to shift into Yggdrasil. Literal, tangible, bark-scraping-his-hands Yggdrasil. Once he returned to the different reality of being properly in a realm the memory of climbing the World Tree would fade quickly.

He cursed having given up the Key of Raido—even on orders from the All-Mother that had stung. It had been like handing over the very concept of freedom.

Still, he’d held onto these spells, scrawled in ink in his personal, growing grimoire. It was a long and wicked complicated ritual, but it wasn't nearly as time intensive as actual travel to _thirty-fucking-seven_ rivers would be. He could do this. He had his magical satchel—bigger on the inside—that he’d magicked royal blue after a Doctor Who marathon.

It was stuffed with gear, including his second favorite boots, of the seven league variety. (Useful, yes, but they lacked the utter lustworthiness of his Hades Faline silver-studded pair.) He was mostly, sort of, sure they’d work in the strange surface of the Tree. If not, he had a bottle of a starwalk potion that would make him nearly weightless and an infinitely extendable rope.

He was doing this. He just needed to be dead of exhaustion for a few more minutes. He poured water over his face and his open mouth, then crushed and swallowed a stone of stamina filched from the healers during his last trip to Asgardia. Then he chugged a Monster Energy Drink because caffeine was one of the twenty Best Midgard Things.

He donned the boots, and up he hopped, spry and nimble and veritably bouncing up the immeasurable height of Yggdrasil.

* * *

_Midtown  
Inside Avengers Tower _

Thor tossed and fussed in his sleep. An observer might assume he dreamt of war. But though the brothers had fought endless battles they were tangled, in the Thunderer’s dream, in an entirely different way.

He awoke suddenly, panting. Sweat dotted his brow and the sheets were wrapped in a knotted mess about his naked form. Flashing images followed him to consciousness: his lithe brother in fluid motion astride Thor’s hips, legs spread wide over Thor’s bulk. He was small and as light as a bird in this new form, but fit as perfectly as ever against Thor’s flesh.

He shook his head. The images were lewd, and Thor fretted. He remembered the white, blinding pain of the sword Gram piercing him. The dull silent weight of Mjölnir refusing his call. He had been unworthy—were these dreams, coming often of late—lingering darkness in his soul?

The sins he’d committed with the brother with whom he’d come of age were not an offense he would visit upon this new life his precious young Loki had won.

For he had fought at this. Sacrificed in ways Thor couldn’t quite read. He could see the unnamed struggles writ clear upon Loki’s sweet face, but the cause of the young one’s worries were a mystery.

He sighed into the silence of his chamber. Mystery his brother had been, remained, and always would be, Thor supposed.

* * *

_And in the World Tree Yggdrasil:_

Time here was as squishy and liquid as space, but after something that felt like hours Loki was feeling truly fatigued. He stopped on a lesser limb and tossed back the starwalker potion.

He wobbled a little. Getting his… air legs? (Was this even air here between realms?) Eventually he righted himself and managed a sort of airborne stair-step motion.

“Excellent,” he announced to himself, then twirled in midair and sauntered up the vast column of the Tree.

He paused on occasion to snap photos of the patterns he read in the interwoven lines of the bark. He wasn’t sure if the return to the solid realms would allow the data to survive, though. So after reaching what the strange “language” of Yggdrasil seemed to indicate was close to the branching off toward Asgard, he stopped to sketch the rune-like whorls and ripples into his book.

After changing his route toward Asgard, the sensation was still of stepping upward. Direction was meaningless, and reading the Tree’s patterns was his only means of navigation. But eventually he reached the organic sphere pulsing its golden light. It both contained and was a door to Asgard.

He needed to move over the Realm Eternal without entering it—he’d have to visit Asgard upon completion of his task, but he had no desire to be there unless it was unavoidable and going around it was the only way to reach Valhalla. The outside of the Hall, rather. Tricky business, this skirting the edges of realms and places.

But he had _literally_ invented tricky.

* * *

_Meanwhile, in Avengers Tower…_

Thor stepped onto the platform jutting out from the building’s strange Midgardian angles. He saluted Heimdall as the light of the Bifröst faded and hefted on his shoulder the cask of ale he had bought from his favorite innkeeper on Asgard.

He hadn’t heard from Loki in several days. Often (but not always; there was no “always” with Loki) such silences meant his brother was off on an errand in service of Asgardia. If that were the case now, Thor was eager to celebrate.

He set to the task of convincing himself he was not _that_ eager.

* * *

_The Agent Loki continued on his quest._

The thrice-damned squirrel was in his hair, blunt but painful claws digging around feeling very likely to crack his skull or scratch his helm. And he couldn’t do a thing about it, being in rather a precarious position. Positions here being of course just an approximation of the word’s meaning.

Loki had managed to summit the orb that was Asgard by placing the seven league boots on his hands and was walking himself along the surface. If his feet had touched he’d have opened the portal and then been sucked into the Observatory.

Ratatösk’s pesky clawing at his head notwithstanding, Loki was pleased with himself for solving that puzzle. He pushed off the surface into a backflip and came to a wobbly, skittering landing upon a sort of finite, flat golden plane. It hummed under his feet. Like the globe of Asgard, the boundary of Valhalla appeared to be an organic part of the World Tree while still being a distinct shape and place of its own.

“Fucking hell, rodent!” he spat out. “If you killed my Very Fabulous Horns, Norns help me, I will skin you and grind you into sausage!” He grabbed for the screeching beast, which launched itself from his head to float at eye level.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a giant squirrel?”

The squirrel jerked its head sideways. “And aren't you supposed to be dead, Loki Liesmith?” the irritating creature replied. “These things—size, space, rumor, truth—they are of no matter in the Tree.”

“Ah. Yes. Well, all things being equal then, would you mind pissing off and I’ll give the whole skinning and eating you plan a thorough forgetting and I’ll be about my own business?”

Ratatösk spoke again, his voice thick as if his cheeks were full, “Ho! The Lie-wright speaks the truth! For all you may pretend at serving the All-Mother, all creatures know Loki only ever serves himself.”

Loki glared, ridiculously, at a bitchy floating squirrel.

“Don’t shoot the messenger,” it tittered. “On you go, little godling, to complete _your business_.”

* * *

Loki sat upon the outskirts of Valhalla, unsure where to go now. He assumed that a magical stag had no more need to be of a familiar scale than did the unnerving squirrel. It could probably be on Valhalla and be the size of a flea or the size of Australia.

He was more than a little disgruntled at the squirrel’s words. He didn’t dispute the truth of his motivations. Loki was selfish, the Midgard sky was blue, and black was universally flattering. But whether or not he had ulterior, maybe-maybe-not _slightly_ Thor-centric motivations, he was working for the greater good.

He _was._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [These beauties are my Loki's favorite boots.](http://www.blackorchidcouture.com/store/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=632_633&products_id=2837)
> 
> So, this is the last chapter before my Christmas familial obligations. We shall have the New Year's gift of smut, as we well deserve after this ASSFACE of a year.
> 
> Be well and Happy Hanukkah, Christmas, or chill weekend, my loves:)


	3. Chapter 3

_Upon the not-surface of the_  
_Golden Hall of Valhalla._   
_Here, the Agent of Asgard_   
_seeks the Great stag Eikþyrnir,_   
_from whose antlers run the_   
_waters that flow toward the_   
_Sacred Rivers._

Loki was breathing slowly and fully, like a yoga instructor would call deep and cleansing, but which Loki called ‘Making Me Less Stabby Breaths’. He briefly regretted his decision not to just go to the Hvergelmir spring itself, the source of the thirty-seven rivers, but it was in Niflheim, and in _that_ place was Hel, and running into Hela was not a good plan. He was very keen to avoid the old Loki’s children, and Hela especially unnerved him.

This would work. Totally.

He shook the kinks out of his neck, pulled the seven league boots back on, and reached into his little bag. His arm and shoulder disappeared into it as he fumbled around in the folded space. At last his fingers closed on a crinkly paper form and he drew out the package. It was a sphere the size of a beach ball, wrapped in parchment.

“Heeere, staggy staggy stag?” he offered hopefully, unwrapping the treat: Oats from a field in southern Illinois mixed with honey from a species of violet bees on Alfheim.

Nothing.

He raised his voice and intoned, “Great stag Eikþyrnir! I summon thee! I have, um... rarefied noms for you?”

Then a shimmer of gold and copper ran through the space in front of him and a shape coalesced. It looked like a huge, hairy tree. There was a hoof, as tall as Loki.

Okay then, huge. Huge epic stag.

“Okay, E. You are very, um… very _extra_. Mind if I…?” He trailed off, popping the ball of oats into his bag and jumping twenty or thirty feet up. He grabbed fistsful of thick, strangely soft fur and shimmied up the stag’s front leg. When he was halfway up the enormous creature sniffed at the little trickster and bent his head toward Loki, who pulled out the oatcake and thrust it toward the stag’s mouth.

It licked experimentally, then took the ball in its mouth, chewing happily. Loki petted the expanse of plush fur he could reach, and continued to climb upward. When he reached the stag’s enormous head, his jaw actually fell open. Its antlers really were like the branches of a mystical tree. They were golden, and flowing from them, flowing _up_ from them, were small silver streams. Shimmering, impossible waters rained upward from thirty seven prongs into a single waterfall that disappeared into mist. Loki walked along the beast’s crown and he could feel the pull of the space between worlds beckoning. He shivered. It was if he could smell Niflheim from here.

Eikþyrnir was still and placid, seemingly pleased by the gift. Loki reached into his pack again and removed a charmed glass flask. It was unbreakable, as Loki didn’t want to chance the loss of his prize but he couldn’t bear using plastic or some such human invention to carry this liquid. So he scrambled onto the antlers and then the odd current took him and he was half walking, half swimming up toward the waterfall. Or the water… fly? Float? A waterfloat.

“This is fucking amazing,” he whispered to himself.

* * *

 _Avenger’s Tower  
_ _The Mighty Thor sits  
_ _with his comrades-in-arms:_

Thor was present physically, but the comfortable chatter between the other Avengers washed over him without his absorbing anything. There was a restive energy to the group. There had been no missions lately, an observation that sent Thor’s mind away to where it often dwelt lately—to his brother. He wondered what adventure Loki was involved in and felt a dull ache that he could not join him on his errands. He dreamt of the two of them, side by side against common foes, forging deeper the tenuous bond they’d found again.

“Your turn, Thor,” Natasha said, nudging him gently with the tip of her boot.

“Aye? What? My apologies…” Thor replied, a little sheepish at being caught with his mind elsewhere.

But his friend only smiled her sardonic but fond grin. “Funniest villain you’ve ever fought?”

And of course, there was an entire catalog of memory devoted to his brother—his old brother—making merry mockery of Thor as they’d fought, his wit always as sharp as his knives and poisonous as his spells. But that was nothing like the amusements Natasha expected, and so he choked down the preoccupation, and shared a tale with his friends.

  
They laughed along with him and Thor was well-pleased. He’d guessed that his meeting with Beta Ray Bill would fit the Midgardians’ humor. He’d noticed they favored self-deprecating jokes, so he’d outlined his defeat at Bill’s hands, though their eventual friendship earned him good-natured groans, rolled eyes, and Clint’s telling him that one could be too noble.

He hadn’t expected the name of Bill’s ship, the _Skuttlebutt_ , to set off another round of amused tittering, but he knew the All-Speech often left slang and idioms a mystery. So he smiled and took a drink of his beer. It had gone warm in the time since he’d last noticed it.

He rose to fetch a cool bottle and was just turning toward the kitchen when Loki appeared, drenched garments clinging to his body like a fluid second skin. Thor dropped his bottle in surprise, the hollow empty glass making a dull thud on the rug.

His mouth open, he looked around the room. His friends were making easy jokes at his clumsiness and no one seemed to see Loki but Thor himself.

“Eheheh… fuck me. It worked again,” Loki giggled, and then collapsed to the floor in a sudden, graceless faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eikþyrnir sounds like IKE-thir-NEER, I believe. My knowledge of the stag came from a long and windy Wikipedia binge on Norse myth* ages ago. He's the reason the rivers are the focus of Loki's journey. My Beta Ray Bill knowledge came from the Marvel comics Earth 616 wiki.
> 
> I'm overjoyed to say I've now read the entire Agent of Asgard series. It was the most amazing thing and my delight was such that Mr. Story told me I was adorable. "Agent!Loki keeps me young," I said, not realizing I was sitting there in a Count Chocula t-shirt having my menopause in cereal clothing. I have a Cereal Shirt. I mean, because vampire, but still.  
> \------  
> *My copy of Gaiman's Norse Mythology is on its way to me and I am DYINGGGGGGG!!!!! I expect there may be a heavy amount of myth!Thorki in my life before Ragnarok drags me back to the MCU.


	4. Chapter 4

_In Avengers Tower, Thor  
_ _hovers over his little brother's  
_ _form and worries:_

Thor looked from Loki to his friends and back to Loki. He opened his mouth and closed it, at a complete loss as to how he should proceed.

It seemed an age to Thor, but his fellows hadn't noticed anything was amiss when Loki's eyes suddenly opened wide. Thor let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

“Stop staring, Thor. They can't see me, but they can see you gawking at me. Go on to the kitchen.”

 Thor picked up the dropped bottle and walked to the kitchen. Loki followed, still talking, in a casually conversational tone, as if his materializing into the Avengers’ space invisible to all but Thor were the most commonplace event.

“I'd prefer to stay undetected if you don't mind? It's just that I nearly took an arrow to my face the last time I met your friends. You know how much I like my face, Thor.”

There was a note of disdain in the way he said “friends” that reminded Thor of the old Loki. But the nostalgia flashed too quickly for Thor to grasp and this Loki was only himself, flippant and young and Thor could think only that he too very much liked this fresh face.

Loki opened the refrigerator and grabbed two bottles, but Thor stopped him.

“I brought us a cask of mead from the inn just south of the palace. It's in my rooms.”

“Fabulous,” Loki said, the bottles clinking as he returned them. “Go excuse yourself and I'll meet you there. Gotta pee like whoa...” He wobbled a little at first, snickered, and corrected his gait into a proper saunter.

Thor’s mouth went dry staring at Loki's legs. He lacked Thor's height now but he seemed to bear an excessive amount of leg, and the boots he was wearing forced his calves and ass into really lovely shapes.

Thor scrubbed his hands over his face as if he could wash away the vision.

He returned to the lounge and bade the group a goodnight and smiled (he hoped reassuringly) at Natasha. She alone seemed to notice his leave-taking was rather sudden, though she only arched an eyebrow in question. She raised her bottle toward him and wished him sweet dreams.

He walked automatically to the elevator to go to his private floor to solve the puzzle of his brother's presence.

* * *

“Have you been drinking?” he asked, horrified at how very old he sounded. And he was standing with his hands on his hips, legs planted apart while Loki was draped sideways in an oversized reading chair, impossible legs dangling in the air.

Thor tried to relax and couldn't figure out what to do with his hands.

“Drinking?" Loki asked. "Not yet. Why? Ohhh… yeah. I'm a li'l buzzed still. So. So! I was in the World Tree and the spell to get out’s a total bitch. Gives you that fuzzy blur thing like when you're doing the bilocation spell from the Atlantis Tablet? Well not you-you, like me-you, you know? Or no, um—one!” Loki smiled, triumphant at having explained himself.

Thor was baffled, as he'd actually done nothing of the sort.

“Like when _one_ does the Atlantis bilocation spell,” Loki continued, “Got m’grammar back. Think it's wearing off. Wait, nope."

He smacked his lips. "I still taste caramel. How weird is caramel? Like, it's practically a potion. Have you ever tried to make it? I got bored and my apartment, the one before last? There was a cat. It caught fire.” He gasped, and clapped a hand over his mouth. “Not the CAT, Thor! The _apartment_ caught fire. I love that cat. I bet I could probably summon her…”

“Loki?”

He looked up at Thor, and his expression was sweet and open. “Hmm?”

“You were in Yggdrasil? Actually in it? Do you know how dangerous that is? How easily you could have been lost? Or swept up into Norns only know what realm?” He was roaring now and had stalked toward the chair. “I could have lost you, Loki! Do you have any idea—uhhh?” he trailed off into a helpless, questioning sound.

He'd crowded right into Loki’s space, and now his brother's legs were spread wide to accommodate him. “You worry about me, Thor! It's so _cute_.”

Thor took in his brother’s face. The delicate lips pulled even thinner in a lop-sided grin, his pupils blown wide and irises bright, sharp and shining and green as bottle glass. A faint peachy-pink blush across his cheeks and nose, the tips of his ears. He saw Loki notice his eyes were fixed his lips and darted his tongue out to wet them.

Thor looked away, trying to force his mind off the deep sex-pink of that tongue against the paler petal colored lips, and failed dramatically, as one shapely calf had slipped between his legs and pressed against the swelling bulge in his trousers. “Loki—”

“Thor?” his brother purred, and he stood up, so fluid and fast that Thor had no time to back away, and then he was frozen in place by the warm pressure of that lovely young body.

“You were saying…?” Loki breathed, head tilted up and sideways. His hands moved lightly over Thor’s biceps.

  
Loki expected the stammering that answered, but was stunned when Thor’s face crumpled and he burst abruptly into tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a shorter chapter than the others but, as ever, I chose to end here and preserve the rhythm rather than double the chapter length (and in so doing also double the wait between updates.) I'm sick and just now un-muddled enough to finally finish this bloody draft. I know it's taking FOREVER to get the boys naked, so I'm adding a 'slow burn' tag.
> 
> The 'Atlantis Tablet' is made up shit, not a Marvel reference. Unless there's a realllly weird coincidence.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very minor spoilers for AoA Issue #1. So minor I'm pretty sure the cover art spoils it too and I'd seen the action referenced posted on Tumblr long before I read the comic. I really wouldn't sweat it.

_In his sitting room,_   
_the Mighty Thor_   
_quakes not with_   
_thunder, but_   
_with helpless tears:_

Thor leaned heavily on Loki, who had been shocked to sober clarity by his brother’s anguish. He supported Thor’s weight—just—and waited out the torrent. There was no use in talking yet; Thor was inconsolable. Loki's face smashed into the solid wall of Thor’s shoulder, and he worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his insides tightening with the pressure of guilt.

He’d pushed Thor too much, probably reminded him of what he’d shared with the old Loki and _Who was he kidding? Why would his gorgeous brother want this little boy-band-looking, pitiful excuse for an Asgardian when he’d had a_ real _brother, matched in size and sharing millennia of history?_ Loki could buy favor with the All-Mother, erase in his own accounting the guilt of past deeds one by one.

But he could never compete with his own former self in Thor's heart.

Now tears pushed out of Loki’s eyes, too, and the longer Thor cried the deeper Loki’s heart sank.

He’d ruined everything.

“Oh, Brother, I’ve ruined everything,” Thor says, his voice wet and muffled into Loki’s matted, damp hair.

Loki pulled back, astonishment evident in raised eyebrows and tears dropping into his open mouth. " _You've_ ruined... Thor, what in the Nine do you mean?"

Thor looked stricken.

"Thor!"

When Thor finally spoke it was barely more than a whisper. "I thought you'd saved me, that Gram had purged the poison, but I..." he hid his face with his hands. "I am still unworthy. Some darkness remains in my soul, Brother, and you mock me for it. I deserve no less, of course. I brought your scorn on myself."

"Thor," Loki spoke slowly and emphatically. "What. The. Fuck. Is going on? You're nothing like you were before. The sword did work. And I'm not mocking you. Never you, Brother. Well, not anymore. All right, not _today_."

Thor huffed a laugh. Loki felt the air move against his face.

“You want me,” Loki said, and he meant it as a statement but still the words lifted in question.

Thor's hands flew up to cover his face again, but Loki caught them in his own.

“Brother,” Loki whispered, leaning toward Thor, “You're not alone in this. It isn’t the curse, or whatever darkness was in you. It can be nothing but truth following in Gram’s wake.” And his cheeks heated, to his extreme irritation, as he continued, “And, anyway, I wasn’t affected and, and… iwantyoutooThorso… So it isn’t the curse thing. It’s lo—attraction. _Mutual_ attraction.”

He recovered himself, and moved his mouth close to Thor’s ear, dropped his voice to its lowest register and breathed, “Very, very mutual.”

And again, surprise: Thor was shaking his head no.

* * *

And Loki didn’t want to pout, really didn’t want to be such a brat, but he was. He was spoiled filthy rotten and couldn’t remember being rejected by a lover and fury was burning like kindling in his chest and yes, he was definitely pouting and then he was shoving at Thor with both hands.

“What!?” Loki shouted. He was too wounded to notice he’d actually caught his brother off-guard and sent him stumbling backward a couple of feet.

And there were tears spilling down golden cheeks again, and Thor’s hands reaching for him, palms up, as if he were beckoning a startled foal. Helpless as always against Thor’s fondness, Loki reached back. Thor took his hands in that swoon-worthy gentle-giant grip and raised Loki’s pale hands to press kisses into his knuckles.

“Oh, Brother,” Thor said, and his voice was thick and gravelly with weeping. “I know how this story ends. Loki—the old Loki—he and I indulged in the lustful aspect of our affection, our love. I fear, have always feared, that doing so was a grave mistake. Perhaps it was I who planted the seed of bitterness in his heart. I who drove that Loki mad.”

He shook with sobs before he could continue. “I could not bear if you and I repeated that fate, Little Brother.” He stroked Loki’s cheeks. “My sweet, beautiful new brother. I love you so very much.”

Loki’s anger flared again, stinging, and he was crying as he shrieked, “ _I’M NOT HIM!_ ”

“No. You are not. And I would not repeat the same missteps with you as I did with him.”

“Thor, I know more of my past self than you know. The All-Mother,” Loki lied smoothly, “Has told me much of him, of his malice. I’ve done scrying. _Temet nosce_ and shit right?  And being y’know, kinda him? I know him better than anyone. And I promise you, Brother, loving you may have been something he wished he didn’t feel, but he did. And fucking you? You loving him back? Those were worth more to him than having a throne on every realm.”

Loki could see the tension drain from Thor, every (glorious) muscle relax.

Thor pushed his hair from his face. “Norns. I need that drink.”

“Yes, please.”

* * *

An hour later, Thor tipped out more golden liquid into two golden goblets Loki had produced from his little satchel. Their talk had been a winding, circuitous knot and it had finally looped back where it had begun.

Loki flirted, and Thor responded.

Thor offered affection, and Loki moved toward him like a flower following the arc of the sun.

At some point they’d ended up sitting on the floor facing each other, Loki’s legs draped over Thor’s. Then Thor had peeled off Loki’s boots and massaged his feet, earning a stream of increasingly erotic moans from Loki and a hard-on for his troubles.

And now Loki climbed into Thor’s lap and they rested with their foreheads touching, Loki’s hair falling ticklish against Thor’s face, the metal of Loki's helm warmed between them.

He chuckled softly and removed Loki’s headpiece, setting it carefully aside with the ridiculous boots and brushed his hair behind his ears.

Loki took a fortifying breath and asked, “Okay?”

“Very well.”

Loki hovered a long moment with his lips barely touching Thor’s before they pressed against each other and oh, the feel of that. Thor’s lips full and slick and honey-sweet against Loki’s thinner lips. When Thor opened first and Loki swiped in for the first taste, it was Valhalla on ecstasy. He groaned into Thor’s mouth and the vibration drew a gasp from Thor, and that—his brother pulling air from Loki’s lungs, urged him to a devastating need.

They threw themselves into the kiss, drinking deep as if they’d been dying of thirst. Teeth clashed artlessly and fists churned raven and golden hair into tangles. Mouths became red and swollen and pupils went supernova, black holes swallowing irises and reflecting the brothers to one and other in dark, glassy depths.

They moved a long while as one entity in two bodies, a sylph-like creature undulating against a great beast or water crashing in waves against a solid shore. When their instinctual, constant motion resolved into a rhythm and their erections lined up and pressed together, Thor tipped Loki gently onto his back.

Loki lay flat, heavy respiration matching Thor’s. Thor followed him and he was surrounded by a fall of thick golden hair and an enclosure of muscled flesh.

  
Loki arched against his brother and hissed out a curse, prayer, and demand all in a single word, and the word was his brother’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ughhh.... Sorry, I am still the Tolkein of porn. I *may* be able to get the rest of this into one chapter and an epilogue, but I promise nothing. As always, please point out any errors or problems.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much,[Ravenbringslight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/pseuds/ravenbringslight), for the brilliant edit and suggestions. One more chapter after this to wrap up Lolo's adventure and wheeeeee onward to new stories!

“Thor, ah, _Thor!_ ” Loki panted, squirming beneath his brother.

He was a vision of decadence, splayed out nude upon the thick rug, legs open and one foot braced on Thor's shoulder. He wriggled impatiently, Thor's fingers buried inside him.

“More,” he demanded. Well, intended to demand but was distantly aware that it was a bit of a whine.

“Greedy, filthy boy,” Thor rumbled affectionately, cupping Loki's jaw. He hooked his thumb into Loki's mouth and earned a shocked gasp. Thor answered with a groan of want and pressed his aching cock into Loki's thigh.

“ _Thoooor!_ ” Yes, there was a desperate edge and possibly a hint of begging but _Norns_ did Loki really not care.

Dignity was far less fun than surrendering to the wickedly yummy feel of talking around Thor's thumb and basking in being stuffed full of thick fingers.

He was so close to getting what he really wanted. Thor's cock was leaving smears of wetness on his thigh, and he was breathing fast and hard. Loki gave him his prettiest wide eyed look and closed his mouth on Thor's thumb, sucking gently, and Thor growled. Loki smiled at the reaction, eyes twinkling, then bit down hard.

Thor was a blur of motion, and Loki found himself folded nearly in half. Thor's hands gripped his thighs and he pushed into Loki with a gratified moan.

It stole Loki's breath and his lies, and he looked with open, guileless reverence into Thor's eyes as waves surged through him—relief and bliss in sharp contrast to the burning sting of being stretched.

He felt whole and complete and real in a way he hadn't realized he'd lacked.

A tear splashed from Thor’s eye onto Loki’s cheek and he thought vaguely of summer rain. Thor was still, solid, and heavy and stroking Loki's thighs gently. Another tear fell onto Loki's nose and Thor kissed it away.

Their eyes remained locked. Loki didn't realize he was weeping too until he felt the tickle of it against his ears.

Thor chased his brother's tears with more kisses, and then their mouths opened to each other, sharing the taste of salt between them.

Loki rocked his hips as much as he could under Thor and they eased into a gentle rhythm. Loki wrapped his legs around Thor's waist and slipped his hands over his arms, feeling the muscles taut and unyielding as they supported Thor’s weight.

In this slighter new frame Loki was keenly aware of Thor's size and it was dizzying. He’d always held Thor in such peculiar regard. He was Loki’s idol and his bane and his fervent desire and he had always been so large in body and in presence. It was near unbearable now, and it was terrifying but thrilling vulnerability to yield to that strength.

As Thor finally began to move with intention, Loki gloried in his brother like a dry field quenched by a relentless shower. Thor moved like laden clouds rolling on a fast wind, and Loki let himself be carried along.

Thor gathered speed and Loki arched to meet him, chasing the storm and taking his pleasure. With every thrust and rolling of hips, Loki’s cock slid against Thor’s hard abdomen, wet with Loki’s pre-spend, and his release was building quickly.

Low, gentle groans vibrated through the sensitive skin of Loki’s neck where Thor’s face was buried, and Loki was caught at the edge of climax as the noises resolved into words.

Broken syllables and half-formed oaths spilled out of Thor along with a steady stream of gasps and moans, and he caged in Loki’s little body and held him so tightly, gripping one perfect buttock and curling his other arm around Loki’s shoulders, nosing at the scent of him and vowing never to let him go, that this was where they belonged, and Thor began finally to spill. Loki’s body clenched and spasmed, sucking in Thor’s seed.

He twisted and wailed in Thor’s immovable grip as the hot bursts filled him.

Thor chanted Loki’s name and a thousand years of endearments and then he was shouting, “Loki, oh, oh—Brother I love you,” and Loki came wailing and shooting surge after surge of come between them.

They stayed connected, unwilling to move for all the worlds, lazy kisses loosening into simply sharing breath. They parted by slow degrees, and Loki cleaned them with a wave of his hands. A barely-there warmth fell over them.

Loki half woke when Thor lifted him to the bed.

“Can you stay just a while?” Thor asked, brushing his lips across Loki’s forehead.

Loki grinned sleepily and snuggled into Thor’s arms. “Yup. But only for the summer.” He smirked. “Told the All-Boss it’d take me like three months to get their shit.”

“They sent you for manure? Of some strange beast or…”

“Thor,” Loki giggled, “You’ve been on Midgard how long? It’s an expression. Junk. Stuff. Miscellania. Shit. This particular shit was the waters of Hvergelmir.”

“What? In Niflheim?”

Loki sighed in exaggerated annoyance. “Of course not. I found the Konami code of quests.”

“The what?”

“Go to sleep, Medieval Brain. Then remind me to show you how to internet in the morning.”

“Very well.” Thor combed his fingers through Loki’s hair, and this was both familiar and new, shorter hair than memory insisted it ought to be but the affection still warmed Loki to his core.

“You truly can stay all summer?”

“I can.” Loki’s eyelids were heavy lidded. “You’ll really let me?”

His voice was impossibly sweet, almost slurring with grogginess.

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you know, sloppy wet teary sex happened. I am so insane for weepy sex with AoA Loki. It's a problem, and Raven is a terrific enabler;)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to darling [ Ravenbringslight](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/pseuds/ravenbringslight) for the beta read. 
> 
> So, this chapter hints at a spoiler you'd get at some early-to-middle-ish point in the Agent of Asgard comics. I think it's vague enough that it ~~might hook you in and make you throw all your money at the books~~ won't ruin anything.

_ The balcony of Avenger’s Tower.  _   
_ September. The air is still warm  _   
_ but cooler breezes carry   
the promise of change.  _

Thor looked nervous, which made Loki giggle, which made him wince. His body had been delightfully sore for several months. He could heal, probably, but he didn’t want to.   
  
And he definitely needed all his stored magic to transport Thor with him to Asgard.   
Thor, the Mighty Thunderer, shifted from foot to foot and fidgeted with the strap of Mjolnir. “Are you certain you could not take the Bifrost?”

“Of course I could, Thor. I do not wish to. I like my methods better.” _And I seriously, angry-emoji-seriously, do NOT like seeing Heimdall. His seeing me._

“Is my Big Brother frightened?” Loki chided, and bless the nervous mass of dude, Thor didn’t notice he was deflecting. Sorta? He never did use the Bifrost; the All-Mother would probably think something was wrong. It was the best choice.

“I am not,” Thor answered predictably, “afraid. I merely wanted to be certain you were not… wasting your energy needlessly.” He dropped his voice to a whisper then. “We are still shielded?”

Loki snickered. “YES! Oh, Avvvengerrrrs!” he yelled literally from the rooftop, “Loki here! I’ve got Thor’s come drippi—”

Thor’s hand flew to cover Loki’s mouth, his face red enough to rival his cape.   
  
Loki grabbed Thor’s wrist, winked, then glimmered. 

* * *

_Asgard._  
 _Three Miles from_  
 _The Great Palace Gladsheim_   


Thor was green even after the glitter of Loki’s magic faded.   
  
The stricken look on his face became wonder as Loki gave him Smug Grin Variant 19 and reached his entire arm into the small bag. He offered Thor a silver flask then—

“Shit; wait. That’s a Jaeger Bomb. Here.” He took the flask, giving Thor an etched glass bottle of similar shape with silver fluid inside. “Just a sip.”

Thor took what he considered a sip and Loki would call a healthy gulp.

“What is it? And what is a Jaeger Bomb? Is it relating to the moving film you showed with the mechanical warriors and the great beasts?”

“It’s a Midgardian cocktail.”

“Ah yes. Stark mixes those for us on occasion. Why do the mortals dilute their spirits?”

Loki emptied the flask in one go. “Well, generally they are like children and they want their drinks to taste sweeter or to dilute the alcohol so their weak sauce systems can handle it. But this drink is fucking foul.”

“Then why…?”

“Red Bull. Plus a good thirty seconds of buzz if I drink a shitload. Let’s go.”

Thor gave Loki a puzzled look (Version 54 in Loki’s Thorspressions File) but followed him when he started walking toward the spires of the palace.

“And what I drank?”

Loki mumbled something that might have been, “Jotun glacier run off” or possibly, “You just fuck off.”

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

 _The Throne Room_  
 _of Gladsheim_  
  
The room was obviously designed to intimidate. Hlidskjalf, imposing enough on its own, was elevated above the floor. The All-Mother stood at the top of gilded stairs looking down their noses at Loki and Thor.

Loki was never going to thank his brother for the large, warm hand at the small of his back, but with it he felt stronger than he ever had beneath those three gazes. Idunn held the bottle of Waters, and she pulled the stopper, offering it to Gaea to sniff. Freya’s eyes narrowed at Loki, suspicious. When Thor casually moved his free hand to rest against Mjolnir she raised an eyebrow before settling into a neutral expression.   
  
“Your task is complete, Loki. But as you seem to have had assistance...”

“He had no aid from me, All-Mothers.” Thor’s voice was firm but controlled.  
  
“Then why are you here with him, Thunderer?” the Voices challenged in unison.

“I wanted to visit my home with my brother once again, Good Triumvirate,” he answered, dipping his head in a slight bow. “Surely my presence cannot detract from Loki’s good deed in Your service?”

Idunn relented. “It does not.” She turned to Loki. “Your continued aid to the Realm is appreciated. You two may go, and Loki, we will contact you when next we must.”

Thor, disliking the tone, stiffened but Loki quickly bowed (well, more of a curtsy, but it was apparently sufficiently reverent) and thanked the All-Mother.

He grabbed Thor’s hand as he turned on his heels, feeling a sudden flare of irresistible mischief, and stalked happily out of the room, heels clicking loud and boisterous on the cold marble.

* * *

_The Secret Chamber_ _  
_ _Of the All-Mother_

“You can’t for a moment believe this will work, Freya,” Idunn said.  
  
“We must try. Fetch the fur of the Star Eater, Sister,” Freya replied.

“I have the scale of the Midgard Serpent.” Gaea opened her palm to reveal the golden scale. She placed it into the Waters and Idunn dropped in a few long, shimmering black hairs.

The Three-in-One began to chant:  
  
“We bind King Loki, Dark Son of Time.   
Your will is caught; no evil thine.”   
  
They ignored the echo of cackling that shook the very stones beneath their feet.   
  
“We bind King Loki, Dark Son of Time.   
Your will is caught; no evil thine.   
We bind King Loki, Dark Son of Time.   
Your will is caught; no evil thine.”

And still the palace shook with peals of laughter.


End file.
